Бесплатный фрагмент - In the Shade of Sidrat

Dedicated to my beloved parents, my brother Aslambek, and the entire Chechen nation!

The simplest things bring the greatest happiness.

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⠀Maryam Nashkhoeva

About the Author

Maryam Nashkhoeva is a member of the Writers’ Union of Russia, the Women’s Union of Russia and NATE — the National Association of English Language Teachers. She is also an Ambassador of the Eurasian Creative Guild ECG London.

She was nominated for the All-Russian National Literary Prize “Writer of the Year — 2017” in the “Debut” category for her story “Sing me a Lullaby, Dad!”. She was also nominated for the “Heritage — 2017” literary award for her story “The Smell of Happiness”. In addition, she was nominated for the Russian National Literary Prize “Writer of the Year — 2019” for her story “In the Shade of Sidrat”. She has been nominated for the “Writer of the Year — 2020” award in the “Debut” category for her story “Dazzling Mind”, and for the “Writer of the Year — 2021” award in the “Debut” category for her short story “The Locket”.

Maryam’s stories were also published in the collections “Catalogue of MMKVA-2021”, “RSP. Prose 2021” and “Anthology of Russian Prose 2022”. Her short story “The Smell of Happiness” was included in the youth literary anthology “Debut — Constellation of Words and Colors” of young writers and artists of the Chechen Republic in 2020.

Maryam Nashkhoeva’s contribution to the development of Russian literature was also marked by the medals “Ivan Bunin 150 years”, “Fyodor Dostoevsky 200 years” and “Anna Akhmatova 130 years” struck in honour of Nobel laureate Ivan Bunin, Fyodor Dostoevsky and Anna Akhmatova. The medals holding the status of public awards were awarded by the President of the Russian Union of Writers D.V. Kravchuk.

Maryam was also awarded the medal of the Women’s Union of Russia at the presentation of the book “In the Shade of Sidrat” at the House of Nationalities in Moscow. The medal is awarded to exceptional women for their creative and professional achievements.

The book is edited by Vera Norova-Lukina.

In the Shade of Sidrat

In everyone’s life, there are moments they are eager to frequently recollect, quietly closing their eyes and trying to reproduce every detail of these beautiful events. People want to go back to the past for even a moment, experience the same emotions, see the dear people they cherish, and become as happy as they used to be in those magical moments. There are also moments you try to hide in the farthest corner of your mind so that you would never experience the poisonous emotions waving your mind again: fear, hopelessness, despair, and emptiness.

With his eyes closed, dam was lying on a sofa pierced by shards and covered with an old cotton blanket. The fresh spring March wind was blowing in through the windows, gently stroking the semi-transparent torn tarpaulins that covered the broken windows. Happy moments of his life emerged in his memory: his last pre-war birthday, his father’s kind look, his mother’s tender embrace. Then everything changed with the roar of planes, explosions of shells, and his consciousness clouded with gunfire, cries for help, and his heart began to beat harder, his breathing quickened. The faces of loved ones, their tears, and last words flashed before his eyes.

Adam quickly opened his eyes, unwilling to bring back the recent bloody events to his memory. Indeed, just a couple of months ago, he had never thought he would survive.

Adam slowly got up and went outside to take a breath of fresh air. Standing on the porch of a stranger but almost familiar house, Adam looked up at the boundless, clear blue sky — everything seemed so peaceful and calm.

“Admiring this tranquil sky for a long time, one might think there was no war at all”, — he whispered to himself gazing at the yard. Then Adam slowly walked towards a tree standing separately and proudly in the far corner of the yard. There was a small stool under the tree. He approached the tree, sadly looked at its broken, dried branches, sat on the stool, and uttered:

“How many tears have I shed sitting here under your tortured branches? How many people have I buried next to you on cold frosty days? Only the Almighty knows! Look, it’s spring outside! Soon the first buds will appear on your branches, followed by the first sweet cherry. Keep blooming, like a beautiful paradise tree, giving its sweet fruits to innocent souls. Look at the traces of the Almighty’s mercy, how He revives the earth after death, beautiful flowers have already begun to grow in place of the graves. Everything has its time”.

Then he covered his face with his hands and mentally went back to those terrible days. It all started in the fall of 1999. The war in the Republic did not take long to arrive, and the majority of civilians left the city, but Adam’s parents did not leave, hoping for a good outcome of the events.

Adam’s parents, Akhmed and Khava, were hiding from bombings in the bomb shelter of their home where they lived. They were already elderly, and Adam was their late and only child. There were many people from neighboring houses, yards, and even other areas in the basement: women, senior citizens, children, all those who believed in a positive outcome. On November 1st, the day marking their one-month sheltering in the basement, Adam had his birthday. He turned sixteen.

— Adam, how quickly you have grown! It seems like only yesterday you were born, and now you are already sixteen! Unfortunately, we are not in the best situation now, but it will all end soon! I just want to tell you something important: no matter what happens in your life, never lose faith in the Almighty and know that everything comes only from Him! Everything is according to His will, and He is always with us! Never let hardships break you, thank the Almighty for everything, got it? For everything good and bad! Life in this world is only a moment, a path to the eternal world awaiting for us, where there will be no war, pain, sadness, or oppression, remember this! Go through this trial with dignity so that at the end of the road, looking back, you will have no regrets! We will always be with you!”, — Akhmed said, patting his son on the shoulder.

— Dad, what are you saying? It’s like you’re saying goodbye to me”, — he replied, smiling.

— Son, this is war, and we must be prepared for whatever comes. We have to say goodbye every minute here. You are already a grown man and understand everything. We have given you everything we could, everything children dream of, but the most important treasure we leave you is your sincere faith, your humanity, and your kind heart. Never lose these qualities under any circumstances, they will never lose their value. Always be a real man!”, — Akhmed added.

— Dad, don’t worry, I will be the way you and mom raised me, you will be proud of me, Adam replied.

— I have no doubt about that! — Akhmed said, smiling.

— Everything will be fine, don’t worry! Dad got a little emotional today, it happens at his age, — Khava said, hugging Adam tightly.

— Mom, I love you so much! — he replied.

— Shh! What are you doing? There are people here, everyone can hear, it’s not nice to say such things in public! — she said, embarrassed.

— So what? Let everyone hear, you said it yourself that paradise lies at the feet of mothers, that we should carry you on our hands and tell you how much we love you more often! — Adam said loudly, standing up from his chair.

There were about fifty people in the basement, and everyone laughed and supported Adam. When they found out it was his birthday, they started congratulating him one by one, shouting warm wishes. Suddenly there was a loud bang, the house shook so hard that people fell from their seats. Then there came silence. One man shouted:

— Adam, this salute is in your honor! Accept congratulations!

People became quiet again, fear crept into their souls. Not for themselves, but for their loved ones. Every person in the bomb shelter was afraid of seeing death. It was easier to pass away first.

After a couple of minutes, there was another loud bang, children burst into tears, people became agitated, but there was no panic as such, only quiet voices of people praying to the Almighty in different languages in the dim light of a kerosene lamp.

— Don’t worry, no matter how many times we have been shaken like this before, they will play around for a bit and calm down. We’ll even have a festive dinner before bed, — Adam exclaimed loudly, trying to cheer everyone up.

But then the real bombing began. He tightly hugged his parents and began praying to the Almighty. The house shook every minute, neighboring houses were bombed, and each subsequent missile could hit their house. Time stood still at that moment, and everyone mentally said goodbye to each other. That time the plane dropped its terrifying weapon — a depth charge — precisely onto their shelter, and not just one. Hundreds of innocent people were killed that day.

Adam opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything. He tried to stand up, but he couldn’t. It was dark and quiet, as far as he could tell. He started calling for his parents.

— Mom?! Dad?! Where are you?! I can’t see you! I can’t hear you! Why are you silent? — he shouted at the top of his lungs, but no one answered.

Suddenly, someone started pulling him hard by the shoulders. After a while, he found himself on the street, an unknown man had pulled him out from under the rubble of the house.

— You’re very lucky, kid. You were born under a lucky star. What’s your name? — the man asked, sitting down on the ground next to Adam.

But Adam didn’t hear anything. He was deafened. After a while, the man asked again, what his name was.

— Adam… Help me! Help me get my parents out of the shelter, they’re alive in there! — he replied, trying to stand up.

— There’s probably nobody alive in there, kid, and you’re lucky. After the bombing, you were lying by the stairs, apparently the blast wave threw you there. I barely pulled you out from under the rubble, safe and unharmed, — the man said.

But Adam didn’t hear him. The faces of those people who were buried under the rubble of the house and, of course, his parents were in front of his eyes.

— I know they’re alive! I’ll get them out myself! There are still many people there, small kids… old people… we must help everyone… Mom, Dad… how can they all be dead? — Adam asked with tears in his eyes.

— I’m really sorry to say, they’re likely to. We’ll check again if there’s anyone alive until it gets dark. Give me your hand, I’ll help you up. My name is Akhmed, — the man replied.

— My father’s name is Akhmed too, — Adam answered.

The man helped him up, made sure he was okay, and then they headed towards the bomb shelter. Descending the stairs, they saw that everything inside was covered with house slabs, and only bodies lay by the stairs, their faces disfigured making it impossible to identify the person.

Pulling the bodies out onto the street, Adam began to scrutinize the faces, wiping them with a piece of his clothing. He immediately recognized his mother, her eyes closed. He hugged her tightly for the last time and placed her on a nearby cart. Then, among the bodies, he recognized his father, and carefully placed him on the cart next to his mother.

— Adam, let’s quickly get out as many people as we can from under the rubble and bury them in my brother’s yard nearby, in the private sector. I live nearby, — Akhmed said.

— Okay, — he replied, in a state of shock.

Then they loaded about ten people onto the cart and quickly headed towards the private houses. Adam was walking quickly, followed by Akhmed who was pushing the cart from behind. The cart was hanging on by a thread… from the load and endless transportation of dead people. It was already getting dark. There wasn’t a soul on the city streets, only the sound of the cart’s wheels could be heard, like a loud echo of a dead city.

Who knows what thoughts filled the head of the sixteen-year-old boy who suddenly lost his family and was heading with a complete stranger to bury his parents in a foreign yard. This path seemed endless to him. He clenched his teeth tightly to hold back tears, and his father’s last words echoed in his mind:

— It’s all God’s will!

When they reached the ruined house, they quickly entered the yard and began burying the people. That day Adam became not a single year, but several years older. The sixteen-year-old boy had his first gray hair and a scar on his heart.

— Akhmed, whose house is this? — Adam asked.

— My older brother’s. Mine is next door, — he replied, pointing to the nearby brick house.

— If you have nowhere to go, you can stay with me. There are many of us locals here in my basement. We’ll get through this horror together. After everything is over, we’ll re-bury everyone at the cemetery. It’s dangerous to go anywhere now.

— Right, — Adam replied, grabbing a shovel. He didn’t shed a single tear the whole time.

After a while, they finished, and Akhmed quietly said:

— Well, that’s it! We have fulfilled our duty to the murdered… to God. I hope if something happens to us, there will be someone to bury us, otherwise the dogs will eat our bodies. Let’s go to my house now, and I’ll introduce you to the others.

Adam just glanced sadly at him, and they headed to the neighboring house. It was already dark and cold. Outside, the barking of hungry dogs could be heard, as they were roaming about the city in search of food and shelter from bombings. People tried to bury the corpses immediately to prevent the hungry dogs from eating them. That was the reality of a cruel and merciless war.

They hurriedly walked towards the house. Descending into a small basement, Adam glanced at the people who were there: on the narrow iron cot on the right he noticed two little children wrapped in warm blankets.

The kids — Alexei at the age of five and four-year-old Alexandra — were sleeping -, while their mother Sonya was sitting next to them. She appeared to be forty years old, but in reality, she was only thirty — the war had aged people significantly.. Sonya had buried her husband Semyon in their yard, he died from a shell hitting their house. The family, like many others, didn’t have time to leave the city.

On the left there was Akhmed’s wife Markha sitting on a worn-out mattress in the company of their children — Makka and Magomed. Makka was six years old, Magomed was ten. The children were attentively examining the new inhabitant of their “little house”, as Makka called the basement. Next to them Adam saw an elderly woman with very tired, sunken eyes, her name was Alla, she was there with her daughter Vera. Vera was very beautiful: a young blue-eyed blonde with a beautiful smile seemingly in her twenties. They did not want to leave the city, hoping, like the other citizens, that everything would soon be back to normal. Adam took them in as they lived nearby and it was dangerous to stay on their own. Vera’s father had died during the first attack of the city, in the very first hours of the war, caught under fire when he was returning home from work.

In the dim light of a kerosene lamp, their faces looked dark and gloomy, their eyes tired, and only the children’s big eyes were shining like beacons of endless hope. Everyone remained still, as if frozen in space.

— Meet our brother Adam, he needs to rest, — said Akhmed, following him into the basement.

Adam was silent. At that very moment, when he looked at these people, tears filled his eyes. In each of them, he saw the people he had shared the bomb shelter with for a month. Then he slowly took a stool and sat down lowering his gaze to the floor. The terrible events of the day flashed before his eyes. He raised his head and looked carefully at everyone sitting in the basement. His heart was breaking with pain, at that moment he wanted to be in the damp earth with his parents.

— Adam, you are now also a member of our little international family, — Akhmed said with a smile, trying to cheer him up.

— He has lost his family today; you will understand his grief. We are all created by the Almighty, and to Him we return! — he added calmly.

Everyone looked at him with great sympathy, no one asked any questions, and the children were also silent, as if understanding the vast universal pain of a man who had suddenly lost the most precious thing in his life. A silence, not typical of wartime, prevailed. Everyone was exhausted and trying to rest, even for a short while. Adam dozed off, sitting on the stool, he didn’t want to eat or drink… the only thing he wanted was to close his eyes and never open them again, so as not to see this cruel and unfair world. This way passed his first night without his father and mother.

It was already dawn when Adam woke up and decided to go out to visit his parents’ graves. He quietly climbed up the stairs, lifted the heavy trapdoor of the basement, and walked quickly to the neighboring house. It snowed for the first time that night. The street was unusually quiet. November turned out to be cold this time, and the white snow covered everything around with its white blanket, as if trying to hide cruel human crimes. Adam immediately headed to the backyard. After a while, he heard some noise in the yard and quickly returned. There he noticed Akhmed collecting snow in two small iron buckets.

— Good morning, Adam! I hope you’ve had some rest, if it can be called so. We’ve run out of water supplies, but luckily it snowed. We will melt it and drink this water. We used to collect rainwater, but now we have to collect snow. I guess, you’re used to such harsh conditions, as you also lived in a bomb shelter for some time? — Akhmed said, smiling. But Adam did not answer, he just sadly shook his head in response.

— Well, it’s good that you are not a white-collar worker. A real man! Take one bucket, let’s collect some more while it’s clean, and then go back home, — Akhmed told him, then they returned to the basement together.

Descending, they plunged into inky darkness. Daylight couldn’t reach the basement, only a kerosene lamp illuminated the small room. In the “little house”, everyone was busy with their own business. Markha tried to feed everyone with the last supplies of food offering a luxurious breakfast of biscuits and canned food accompanied with the rainwater leftover. The elder children were playing a city name game, Vera was reading her favorite book “Jane Eyre”, taken as the only valuable thing when they ran away during another bombing.

Alla and Sonya were melting the snow brought by Akhmed. Everyone was in warm clothes round the clock, as it was very damp and cold in the basement. They lit a small fire from makeshift materials: frames of broken wooden windows, sticks, newspapers, magazines, apart from books — they were strictly forbidden. The library was off-limits. Adam remained silent. The women tried to talk to him, but in vain.

— Akhmed, he talked to you, didn’t he? The boy isn’t dumb? — worried Markha asked.

— No, not at all, what are you saying? We talked yesterday. Apparently, his parents’ death affected him. It’s great he survived, he was born lucky, he didn’t even get a scratch after all that bombing. Don’t disturb him now, when he recovers from the stress a little, he’ll start talking, — Akhmed replied.

— He’s sitting on that stool again, staring at one point. I feel so sorry for him. Try talking to him, ask him to eat something. He might get sick, — Markha said.

— He’ll be fine. He’s young, his whole life ahead of him, — Akhmed replied, doing his best to look on the bright side of things.

— What life? We don’t know if we’ll be alive tomorrow, — Markha said sadly, waving her hand.

— Let’s not be pessimistic! Hope always saves a person in any situation. Our people survived in exile, and now everything will be fine. Let’s hope for the Almighty! I don’t want to hear such words from you again! — Akhmed replied.

— As you say, captain! — Markha said.

After a while, everyone gathered around a small table with food: pieces of crackers, two cans of preserved food, melted snow for drinking — that’s all that was left for the past couple of months. First, the children ate, and then the adults, if there was anything left. But despite such terrible conditions — hunger and cold — the children did not get sick. When there were no strong bombings, local markets worked, brave and courageous women went out before dawn to earn money to feed their families.

Thus, one day passed after another within the four damp walls of the “little house”. The children were very afraid of planes and loud explosions, but the adults did not show any sign of being scared. There were times when each of them just wanted to cry out loud, to sit outside where nobody could hear, and scream at the top of their lungs! About their pain, their losses, their shattered lives, the ones who had passed away, and the unheard-cruelty of people. Over that month, everyone became so close as if they had known each other for their whole lives, they shared their experiences, cried and laughed together, and even shared their last piece of bread.

War always reveals the true face of a person: real people become even more compassionate, kind, and responsive, while beasts become more savage, losing their humanity. Some people are nobler in times of war, while others are turned inside out, revealing the worst in them.

December passed by in an agonizing anticipation of the war’s end, taking many lives forever. New Year’s Eve of 2000 arrived to let the mankind into a new era of the 21st century. In all cities, people were preparing to celebrate the New Year, setting tables, rejoicing, laughing, and making wishes. But in Chechnya, they dreamed only of a peaceful sky above their heads and salvation from this real hell.

There was no news of a ceasefire or the end of the military actions. The old radio receiver had long since stopped working, and people were left with only foolish hopes of salvation. Despite the hopelessness and helplessness of the situation, New Year’s Eve remained a magical holiday for children, the time t of miracles. So, that day, Akhmed decided not to deprive the children of a little joy and to create a real fairy tale for them.

— War is war, but our children should have a Christmas tree! — he said with a smile and went out in search of any kind of tree early in the morning. Markha tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. After a couple of hours, he returned like a real Santa Claus, with a red hat on his head that he made from some fabric found in the house, a small artificial tree, and a couple of toys.

— Uncle Akhmed, are we celebrating the New Year — little Alexandra asked, surprised.

— Of course, my dear! We will have the most beautiful tree in the universe! Can you help me decorate it? — Akhmed hugged the girl and answered.

— Of course, I’ll give you a hand! I always helped my dad decorate the tree! But he’s far away in heaven now, but I think he can see us and be happy for us, — she replied sadly.

— Of course, he sees us! That’s why we will decorate our tree all together and have a wonderful New Year! Are you ready? — Akhmed smiled and said.

— Yes, we can do it. Let’s help each other, friends! — the girl replied with a smile.

At that moment, Sonya, Alexandra’s mom, covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. She remembered her last peaceful New Year. At that moment, she was afraid even to think about losing her children.

— Don’t cry, Sonya. You shouldn’t show them your tears. We must stay strong for their sake to help them confront their fear, and the kids will take after us and remember us as cheerful, no matter how difficult it is for us, — Markha said.

— Yes, you’re right, but my strength has run out. Sometimes it seems like we would all die and put an end to this suffering, — she replied, wiping away her tears.

— We still have time to die, look what you’re wishing for! — Akhmed said, smiling.

Everyone began bustling around like it was a real New Year’s Day, as if there was no war going on outside. The children decorated the small tree, a source of joy and happiness for them. Akhmed played the role of Grandfather Frost (the Russian Santa Claus), and Sonya was the Snow Maiden. Kerosene lamps served as Bengal lights. Instead of a festive atmosphere, there were gray walls, the smell of mold, and pieces of stale bread. Instead of fireworks, there was another bombing, and instead of gifts and candy, Akhmed found a pair of dried out lollipops in his brother’s house, which he divided equally among all the children. It seemed like their most unusual New Year, the new year of 2000, full of beautiful dreams and hopes.

— Kids, you will never forget our wonderful New Year, will you? — Akhmed asked, laughing.

— Of course, we won’t, Uncle Akhmed! — they answered in syne.

— Then I didn’t live my life in vain, — Akhmed replied, smiling.

Adam did not speak all day. He was watching the fuss around him with absolute indifference. After the experienced stress he suddenly lost his ability to speak… everyone hoped he would eventually recover. Almost every night, he dreamed of his parents, but on this festive day, he saw them in a special place he had never heard of before! Towards evening, he dozed off and saw them sitting in the shade of a beautiful paradise tree, the beauty of which could not be described in words. The tree, releasing an amazing heady scent, had huge golden leaves and so appealing fruits that Adam felt eager to try them immediately.

Akhmed and Khava, Adam’s parents, were sitting under this tree in white clothes, their faces shining with a beautiful white light. Adam stood nearby, but he could not approach them, as if an invisible wall separated them. He begged his mother to let him stay with them, saying he was reluctant to return to the hell on earth. But his father just told him “Not now”.

Waking up from the dream, Adam felt tears well up in his eyes, but he could not tell anyone about the dream because he couldn’t speak. This made him even worse. He slowly got up and headed for the stairs to go outside for fresh air.

— Adam, where are you going? Don’t go out, it’s already dark, — Akhmed said, noticing him climbing the stairs. He looked at Akhmed questioningly, hesitated for a moment, then went back down to the basement.

— We’ll have dinner soon, a festive New Year’s dinner! — Akhmed laughed, trying to cheer everyone up a bit.

Later, after a modest dinner, everyone returned to their places. Every evening the women took turns telling the children different fairy tales and stories from their childhood to pass the time and get distracted from reality. This time, Markha was supposed to tell them something enchanting, a story that would make their hearts warm with magic on this wartime New Year’s Eve.

— Today I will tell you about a beautiful magical place where I was longing to get e in my childhood dreams, — Markha said.

— Aunt Markha! What kind of place is it? Why haven’t you told us about it before? — Vera smiled and asked.

— I left it especially for today to add even more magic to this day. When I was little, my grandfather often told me about a beautiful place in heaven, a place where the tree called Sidrat al-Muntaha grows. This beautiful and amazing paradise tree is located on the seventh heaven in paradise. Grandfather told me that the names of all the people who have ever lived on earth, starting with Adam, the very first person on earth (peace be upon him), and ending with the last person before the end of the world, are written on its huge golden leaves.

And every year, in the middle of the Islamic month of Sha’ban, by the will of the Almighty, as many leaves fall down from the tree, so many people are destined to pass away that year. At the same time, as leaves with new names appear, so many people are supposed to be born that year, by the will of the Almighty.

Hardly had Markha uttered that Adam pondered: could he havehad a vision of his parents in this place? Then he became all ears again.

— So, the appearance of a new leaf on the Sidrat tree apprises of a new person’s birth, and the fall of an old leaf apprises of somebody’s death. I wonder, have the leaves with our names already fallen this year? — Vera asked, reflecting.

— Only the Almighty knows this, don’t think about the bad, always hope for the mercy of the Almighty! — Markha replied, hugging Vera tightly.

— Mommy, tell us more about this beautiful tree, what does it look like? — Magomed asked with interest.

— Grandfather said that its leaves are as big as an elephant’s ears, and its fruits, being all edible, resemble large pitchers. Our beloved Prophet Muhammad was elevated to this tree, may Allah bless him and greet him. And what is beyond this tree, no one knows except the Almighty.

— Even angels? — asked little Makka.

— Even angels do not know, only the Creator of the earth and heaven knows. Our beloved Prophet Muhammad, may Allah bless him and greet him, described this tree this way: “This tree is so magnificent that even a horseman riding in its shade wouldn’t be able to leave it over a hundred years of travel. One leaf of this tree can cover all the mankind”. I have always set my heart on beholding this tree in my dreams, touching its magical leaves, trying its magical fruits, and sitting in its shade.

— I would also like to see these heavenly places! What a Mighty Creator of the earth and heaven! So much beauty on earth, such beautiful nature, numerous curious nations and cultures, noble people and kind hearts! There is enough space for everyone on the planet, why kill one another, what is this hatred and fighting for… We used to live wonderfully, visited each other, celebrated all holidays together, rejoiced and shared sorrows, respected and valued each other, we didn’t want this war, why did no one ask us if we favoured it or not?! Will it never be like before? — saying this, Vera covered her face with her hands and cried.

— Don’t cry, my girl! My grandfather was a believer, he always said that the Almighty is one, He is the Creator, He created all living creatures in the heaven and on earth, He created all people on the planet and endowed them with different languages so that they could understand each other, live in peace and harmony. And my grandfather also said that there exist neither bad nor good nations, all people are equal, all created by the Almighty! There are only two nations, two types of people: virtuous and unvirtuous ones. Always bear this in mind. Remember that all trials are from the Almighty and we must be patient. After every hardship there comes relief. Everything will be fine, — said Markha, smiling.

— I saw it! I saw it! — suddenly exclaimed Adam from his stool.

— He spoke up! — rejoiced Alla.

— What did you see, Adam? — asked Markha.

— I saw this place you’re telling about in my dream; I saw the heavenly tree Sidrat, I saw my mom and dad there!

— When? — asked Akhmed.

— Today, when I dozed off in the evening… They were sitting in the shade of this beautiful tree… I didn’t want to leave that place… I wanted to stay with my mom and dad, it’s hard for me to stay without them, — Adam repeated, stuttering. Emotions flooded over him again, the yen for his parents filled his soul and heart.

— Calm down, Adam, everything is fine! You started speaking, and that is already a gift for all of us! We are here for you; we are a family! I will be your father, if you allow me! — Akhmed said, hugging him tightly.

But Adam didn’t hear anything… He squatted down, covered his face with his hands, and quietly moaned, trying not to cry.

Everyone stood up from their seats and hugged him tightly. They felt his pain, as almost everyone in this basement had lost a loved one. The next day, from early morning, the bombings restarted. Planes dropped bombs on the city one after another. This time the children were very scared.

— Don’t be afraid, it’s very far from us, it will be all over soon, — Sonya wiped away her tears and spoke to her children.

They were crying from both fear and thirst. The children were thirsty, but there wasnot a single drop of water. Sonya was rocking them in her arms, trying to distract them, and they fell asleep to the sounds of exploding bombs. Magomed and Makka huddled close to Markha, closing their eyes, only occasionally flinching from the strong blasts. Vera wrapped her mother in a warm blanket and was softly singing her favorite song “Tenderness” by Maya Kristalinskaya.

Akhmed and Adam were sitting silently by the basement stairs, guarding the women and children. They tried not to show their inner fear, on the contrary, they tried to cheer everyone up. But it didn’t work out very well. Everyone was very tense, thinking that this was the end. After a few hours, everything quieted down, and no sound could be heard anymore.

— While it’s quiet, I’ll get water for the kids. There was a little snow last night, we’ll melt it, — Akhmed said, hurrying up the stairs.

— Don’t go anywhere, the kids are asleep. It’s dangerous outside, shelling can start at any moment, — Sonya said in a worried voice.

— Don’t worry, I’ll be quick in the courtyard and back. It won’t take long. We can endure, but the children can’t. And you can’t hide from death anywhere, — Akhmed smiled in response.

— I’ll go with you, — Adam said.

— We were missing you, stay in charge until I return, — Akhmed said, patting Adam on the shoulder. He swiftly lifted the basement cover and went out into the yard. Everyone nervously waited for Akhmed’s return. An hour, two… silence… Markha became nervous.

— Adam, did it really snow yesterday? Maybe he went to look for water? There are still citizens in the next block who have not left the city. Maybe he is there… or, as usual, he is helping them, — Markha said anxiously.

— Aunt Markha, it didn’t snow yesterday. When leaving, he whispered to me that he was going to look for water. But don’t worry, he may be staying with the neighbors. He’s sure to come back, — said Adam.

— Okay, I hope so. May the Almighty protect him for us, — Markha said.

More than three hours passed, but Akhmed did not return.

— I can’t wait anymore; I must find him. He might have got in trouble and need help! — Adam announced, without waiting for an answer. He rushed out of the basement. Upon entering the yard, Adam looked around. It was dark and quiet, and the only sound was dogs’ barking coming from a neighbouring

street. There was no snow, but the ground was muddy and slushy, and a piercing January wind was blowing his curly hair. He instinctively headed towards the gate, and over there, behind the gate, he found Akhmed lying on the ground with two buckets in his hands and a bullet hole in his head. His eyes were half-open, and his face wore that same kind smile that had warmed everyone during these harsh months.

Akhmed was lying in a huge puddle of water and his clothes were wet. He had finally found water and was carrying it to the children and women. Fatal sniper shots at his head and heart killed Akhmed. Bodies of other people killed by snipers were often found on the streets. Adam fell to his knees beside him, lifted him by the shoulders, and hugged him tightly, saying:

— I lost my father for the second time… forgive me for not lying here instead of you.

There was no time to be wasted — he had to bury Akhmed before darkness. Adam picked him up and carried him to his brother’s yard, where the others were buried. An hour later, Adam was sitting by his grave reciting a prayer, when suddenly lost consciousness.

When Adam came to, it seemed like an eternity had passed. He was trembling with cold, but then, gathering his wits, he recalled that they needed water! He remembered what had caused Akhmed ‘s death. It was already dark outside, and he quickly got up and headed towards the gate. There were the two buckets Akhmed had brought, and there was a little water in them.

— Praise be to God! There’s still a little left… I don’t know where to get water from. Oh, Almighty! Let it snow today, I can’t bear any other losses! Let the kids not suffer, they’re absolutely innocent, — Adam looked up at the sky and prayed.

Having collected the remaining dirty water, he slowly headed back to the house. Not knowing how to tell the others what had happened, and silently picking up words, Adam descended into the basement. The women and children were sitting there waiting. When Magomed saw Adam returning all alone, he jumped up from his seat with tears in his eyes and whispered:

— Dad will come back, right?

— Of course, Magomed. Dad will definitely come back, — Adam replied.

He didn’t want to cause the boy the same pain his own father’s death had brought him. Not today. Let there still be hope for him. He will wait for this reunion.

Markha understood everything right away from Adam’s tearful eyes… from his bloodstained clothes… and from his treacherously trembling hands… She slowly got up, walked over to him, and embraced him fiercely.

— Stay strong. You’re so young and you’ve already been through so much. Now is not the time for tears, no matter how much we might want to. The children shouldn’t know about this yet. Thank you for burying him. May the Almighty have mercy on him and forgive his sins! If something happens to us too, protect the kids, they are our future, our hope, — Markha whispered to him.

These words made Adam even more upset: he remembered his mother, the last time she hugged him, her gentle hands and loving gaze… and tears flowed from his big gray eyes. In this difficult moment for Markha, she had to support the boy, forgetting about her own grief, so that he wouldn’t break, so that he could continue to fight for himself, for the children and women, those he was responsible for from that day on as the only adult man.

— Aunt Sonya, give the kids some water. I hope there will be enough for tomorrow. Let’s wait for the snow, — Adam said.

Sonya covered her face with her hands and cried.

— What is happening in this world, when will this hell end… how can we go on without you, Akhmed! — she repeated again and again.

Vera and Alla were also crying quietly. Another difficult day and an equally difficult night. No one closed their eyes, only the children were sleeping soundly. The night was quiet, without explosions or gunfire. The next morning, fluffy white snow, everyone had been waiting for, starting falling from the sky.

— Stay here, Adam, I’m older than you and you have to listen to me. I’ll quickly gather snow for melting and come back while it’s still quiet, — Markha said in a commanding tone.

Then she quickly went out with two small baskets. Sonya gave everyone the leftovers: pieces of dry bread, a little water, and a jar of pickles found in the house. It was particularly cold that day, and the children were wrapped in warm blankets. Adam lit a small fire with the remnants of their supplies to warm the women and children a little anyhow. Then Markha ran into the basement, panting. She wanted to say something but was out of breath. It was clear that she had been running.

— Get ready! They’ve arrived! I caught up with their car, — she said quickly.

— Who arrived? — Sonya asked in surprise.

— Workers of a humanitarian organization. I managed to catch up with their car, — Markha replied.

— Will they take us to a safe place? — Vera asked hopefully.

— Of course! Hurry up and get ready! They’re waiting at the entrance until it gets light. There’s no bombing, you’ll have time to leave the city, — Markha said happily.

— And what about you? We won’t leave without you! — Sonya replied.

— They have many people in the car, we won’t all fit. I begged them to take at least the children, they agreed, then said they would take the adults later. They’re having a tour around the city to evacuate people from bomb shelters and basements, — Markha said. For the first time over the latest period, she had hope for salvation.

— Let’s hurry, girls, we have little time left, — Vera said, getting up from her seat and quickly gathering the kids.

Markha handed Sonya her children’s documents and said:

— Sonya, I entrust my children to you!

Sonya began to cry and hugged Markha, at that moment everyone understood that this might be their last meeting. Everyone quickly went to the gate and started getting into the car. Magomed and Makka were crying and didn’t want to leave their mother. Adam tried to persuade them, but nothing worked.

— Mommy, I won’t go anywhere without you and Adam! Daddy is gone, I know he’s already dead, I don’t want to lose you too. Please, don’t let go of my hand, I want to stay with you, I’ll die without you, mommy! — Magomed cried, hugging Markha.

— Magomed, I’ll come tomorrow, I promise! Adam and I will come together! Don’t cry, my dear! I love you very much, we will always be together! Please, if you love me, go with them, with Aunt Sonya, I beg you! And take care of your little sister! Let her not see your tears! You’re my protector! — Markha said, barely holding back her tears.

Magomed burst into tears, not letting go of his mother’s hand. Then Adam calmly took him in his arms, gave him a comforting hug and whispered into his ear:

— Magomed, you’re a man! You must take care of Makka and the others until we and mom come back, okay?

— Are you sure you’ll come back? — he asked through his tears, calming down a bit.

— I give you my word as a real man! — Adam replied with a smile.

They hugged each other, and Adam put him in the car next to his sister and Sonya.

— Let’s go faster, we have very little time, the road will be dangerous later! And take my business card just in case — the driver shouted to them inbroken Russian with an American accent. Adam took the card and slammed the door, the car moved. Then he read the notice in pencil on the back of the card: “If you survive, look for your close ones in the refugee camp in Ingushetia”.

Markha stood frozen, watching her children whom she could never see again. The cruelty of war is immeasurable, people lose their loved ones, cities are reduced to dust, and hearts turn to stone. Magomed kept weeping while looking out of the window at his mother, who was gradually moving away, and little Makka was sitting next to her brother, waving goodbye with a smile. Markha stood there for another fifteen minutes without moving. Then Adam took her hand and led her into the house, into the basement looking empty without the kids, Sonya, joyful Vera, and silent Alla.

— Thank God! I am now calm, there is no need to worry about the kids, — Markha said quietly.

— Everything will be fine, they will definitely come for us, if not today, then tomorrow, — Adam replied.

— That’s not so important now, Adam, the main thing is that they will all be safe, — Markha smiled in response.

That day brought pure white snow, so clean and innocent. Markha fell asleep on the iron bed and slept all day long. Adam visited the graves of his parents and Akhmed, stood in the yard for a while, watching the beautiful falling snow, and after a while, he collected some snow for melting and went down into the basement. No one told bedtime stories anymore, no one asked for water, there was no sound of children’s laughter or crying, only silence, which was replaced by the roar of airplanes and the explosions of shells, taking hundreds of human lives.

Several days passed in silence, cold, and hunger. The food supplies ran out, and Markha and Adam were running low on strength. No one came for their rescue.

On the morning of January 9, Adam found an old receiver in the house, and by some magical means, he managed to turn it on. It was battery powered. Struggling to catch an unfamiliar radio wave, he heard that a safe corridor was provided for civilians to leave the city that day, and it would be in effect for only twenty-four hours. Adam told Markha about this, and they were both very happy. Markha missed her children terribly and longed to hug them. Then they dressed warmly because the road was long and dangerous, took their documents, without which one would automatically be regarded as a bandit, and set out on their journey.

Outdoors it was frosty, sunny and unusually quiet. Markha took Adam by the hand, and they hurried along the streets seeking to reach the safe corridor and cross the border between Chechnya and Ingushetia as quickly as possible. At that time, hundreds of Chechen refugees were staying in fraternal Ingushetia.

With each step, Markha became weaker and weaker. She was very ill, but she did not say anything to Adam. Along the way, she was gasping for breath, losing consciousness, but getting up again to walk further. Adam supported her, trying to cheer her up talking about the children, about their upcoming meeting, which made her feel a little better, and with a smile on her face, she tried to keep walking. But the longer they walked, the worse she felt. Passing by one house, Markha stopped and said to Adam:

— This is my uncle’s house, let’s go into the yard and have a ten-minute rest, otherwise I can’t go any further, my vision is darkening, and I am very thirsty… I remember they had a basement, maybe they haven’t left yet. We’ll take a look.

Saying this, she grabbed Adam’s hand so as not to fall. Markha turned pale, her lips turned blue, her hands became as cold as ice.

— You’re really sick, maybe we’ll wait here until you feel a little better? — suggested Adam, worrying about her.

— No… no… I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s just fatigue, nothing serious, we’ve seen worse illnesses… and even death, — she replied with a faint smile.

— Okay, we’ll do as you say, just hold onto me and don’t let go of my hand, besides you, I have no one else, — Adam replied tearfully.

The next moment they entered the yard. The gate was open, the house itself was destroyed, neither its windows, nor the doors, nor the roof remained intact, just lonely walls stood like the yard guards. When entering the house, Markha headed towards the place where the basement was. Approaching it, they saw a terrible sight: the flames had engulfed the basement, getting smaller and smaller, and it was impossible to breathe from the smell of smoke. Fortunately, the fire did not spread onto the house.

— I hope there was no one downstairs, — Adam said quietly.

— Me either. I’ll go outdoors to pick some water, and you will wait on the stairs until I come back, okay? It’ll be calmer for me that way, I’ve already lived for a while, but you have everything ahead of you, you need to be careful, — Markha calmly replied.

— Good, just quick, we don’t have much time, and your children are waiting for you, — Adam responded.

With these words he eased on the steps and, watching Markha leave, thought to himself:

“Such a young woman has already experienced so much… In her thirties she looks like an old lady, with grey hair, sunken eyes, a slightly wrinkled face… But what a brave and strong woman she is! Our nation relies on women like her, a whole nation! The fearless and courageous Chechen woman! Enduring all the hardships and blows of fate silently, relying only on the Almighty! As long as there exist women like her, our nation will not perish and will prosper!”.

Perhaps the Almighty Creator made all women in the world like this: seemingly vulnerable and fragile like crystals at first glance, but in reality, strong in spirit like flint, the guardian angels of the most precious thing in the universe — human life.

Suddenly, Adam was thrown a few meters by a strong explosion. After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes, stood up, and quickly ran out into the yard to find Markha. His thoughts were: “Markha! You’re alive! You’re okay! I know! You just went out for water…”.

He ran around the small yard several times. His consciousness clouded, but, grabbing his head, he ran around the yard calling her.

— Please! Answer me! Where are you? Don’t leave me! We’ll still make it to the camp… We’ll make it… Where are you?! — he repeated in panic, slowing down his pace and looking around. But Markha didn’t answer, there was only silence.

Then he slowly turned into the backyard and saw a large pit in the ground, and there… were Markha ‘s remains… fragments of her body… Adam didn’t know what to do, it seemed fate had already tested him: he had buried his parents, friends, neighbours, but he wasn’t ready for such a blow of fate… Then he slowly sankdown to the ground and cried.

— This is a terrible dream! I’ll wake up soon, and it will all be over! You’ll return to me, and we’ll continue our long journey together. What should I do? I’m so tired… Tell me what to do… You just went out into the yard… you’ll come back, — Adam repeated, gasping for breath from tears.

His heart was breaking with pain. He wished this bloody earth open up and swallow him just not to feel the burning pain in his soul, to have everything turn out unreal, another cruel joke of war. But he had to endure this loss too. Then he suddenly jumped up like a madman and began searching for something.

— I won’t leave you here, do you hear me? You’ll come with me to your children, they’re waiting for you and love you very much! — Adam went on repeating that wiping away his hot tears,

Finding an old bag in the yard, he gathered the remains, wrapped the bag and gently hugged it. It seemed to him that he had gone crazy, that the whole thing hadn’t been occurring to him and he had got to hell on earth instead. But, unfortunately, all the inhabitants of the Republic were captured in this hell. The sky and the earth trembled from human cruelty day and night.

Adam understood that he needed to reach the humanitarian corridor for refugees, bury the remains, and find the kids. Gathering all his willpower, Adam quickly set his feet on the path all alone, without Markha. He no longer cared whether he would make it alive or dead.

After a couple of hours, he didn’t even notice that he had reached the border between Chechnya and Ingushetia. Noticing a large stream of refugees, with many people and cars, he stopped next to a car with a family inside. Suddenly, he thought he saw Markha sitting in the car. He approached the partially open window and said to the woman inside: “Markha, I told you we would make it! We reached the border!”.

Having uttered this, Adam fainted. When he came round, he found himself sitting in that car, next to the woman he had spoken to. She had a snow-soaked bandage on his forehead.

— Boy, what’s your name? What happened to you? Why are you alone? Where are your parents? — the woman asked, worriedly.

— I’m Adam… They’re gone… They’re all gone… I’m alone… with Markha, — Adam replied calmly.

— Where is she? With you? We didn’t see her here, — the woman replied.

— She’s nearby. Here… in the bag… I need to bury her… and take her children from the camp with me. I promised, — he stuttered, holding the bag close to him.

— What are you talking about? Poor boy, he’s completely lost his mind. Have a short rest, you’ll come with us. We’re also going to the refugee camp. We’ll find the children, — the woman replied, tearfully.

— Leave him alone! Why are you bothering him? Can’t you see he’s in pain? There are really human remains in the bag. When I put him in the car unconscious, I saw what was inside the bag… He’s telling the truth. We’ve all lost our minds because of this damn war, — the elderly man sitting behind the wheel cried out.

— And you, hold on! In any difficult situation, we are not alone. Our Creator is always with us! He sees and hears everything, even what we don’t say. He knows our souls better than we do. He loves us more than our own mother. Everything will be okay! This is coming from a man who buried his three brothers, parents, and two little children. My little son was also named Adam. He was blown up by a landmine right in front of me, — he added, barely holding back tears.

Adam knew what it was like to lose the loved ones. He covered his face with his hands, and the harsh events of the recent months passed before his eyes like a movie. Raising his head, he said:

— I’ve experienced so much pain that I don’t know why my heart is still beating so treacherously.

— It’s not up to us to decide, son. It will beat until its time is up. We, men, must bear the blows of fate stoically, for the future of our nation is behind us, and we are responsible for our children so that they grow up to be real people! — replied the man.

— Kazbek, look, all the cars have started moving, and we will finally go, — said the woman happily, holding her sleeping eight and ten-year-old children close to her. Her name was Amina.

— Praise be to the Almighty! We will get out of this, — Kazbek sighed in response.

It was already getting dark when they set off. There were a lot of people. After a while, they crossed the border between Chechnya and Ingushetia. Passing through another village, Kazbek stopped the car at the side of the road and said:

— There’s a cemetery over there, we need to bury the woman’s remains. Amina, you stay in the car.

— Okay, — she replied.

Kazbek got out of the car, opened the trunk, took a small bottle of water, a piece of white and green fabric, and a wooden board. Adam followed him, holding his bag tightly in his hands. Then they quickly headed towards the cemetery.

After a while, they returned to the car and sat in silence for a few minutes.

— When all this chaos is over, we will bury her in the family cemetery, don’t worry, Adam. The most important thing is that her soul will find peace after the burial, — Kazbek said in a tired voice.

Adam just nodded and fell asleep in the car. They kept going until they reached the house of Kazbek’s old friend, Islam, who was Ingush, and Kazbek knew he wouldn’t refuse them a place to stay. And indeed, Islam not only let them stay, but also forbade Kazbek from seeking other accommodation, saying that he wouldn’t let them go anywhere.

— Kazbek! How could you think that I would let you go, my brother? Amina! Quickly set the table, our brothers have come to visit! — he shouted to his wife.

After dinner, everyone was very tired and went to bed early. The next morning, Kazbek, Islam, and Adam set off to the refugee camp to search for everyone who was with Adam in the basement. When they arrived at the camp, they began asking people in the tents where they could find certain individuals, calling out their names and surnames.

Then, looking into another tent, Adam saw Magomed sitting sadly by the window, with Makka sleeping next to him on a wooden cot. He slowly walked inside and sat down next to him. Magomed, sensing someone nearby, turned around and, recognizing him, exclaimed:

— I knew you would come! I knew you would take us out of here! I have been waiting for you! I have been praying every day to the Almighty to bring you back!

He gave Adam an affectionate embrace and burst into tears, that ran down his rosy white cheeks.

— Magomed, everything is fine, I promised, and I am here! Now I will never leave you and Makka! — he said, hugging him reassuringly.

— And Mom? Where is Mom?! She came with you too, didn’t she? — Magomed asked through tears.

— Everything is alright with mom. She’s in the best of worlds, — Adam replied calmly.

Magomed cried even harder. He understood everything without words.

— Where is Sonya? Vera? Where is everyone? — Adam asked, looking around.

— They all left together with some man to another city. Sonya wanted to take us with her, she cried. I told her I would stay here and wait for you, — Magomed cried again.

— Okay, enough already, you’re a man after all! — Adam said, ruffling Magomed’s hair.

— Here’s a piece of paper with an address. Sonya asked me to give it to mom, — Magomed said.

— Okay, who are you living with here? — Adam asked.

— With Aunt Medina, she was with us in the car when we came here, — he replied.

— Let’s wait for Aunt Medina and go home, — Adam smiled.

— Back to our home? They’re shooting there, I don’t want to go there, — Magomed said, lowering his head.

— No, not there, to another house, here in Ingushetia, to Uncle Islam’s, we’ll stay with him until everything is sorted out, — Adam replied.

After a while, Medina came, Adam thanked her for taking care of the kids like her own, said goodbye, took Makka in his arms, and they left the refugee camp. Magomed did not leave Adam’s side, Amina, Kazbek’s wife, fell in love with little Makka and called her “my sweet kiddie”.

That evening, Adam ate hot food for the first time, drank hot tea, the aroma of fresh bread intoxicated his head. All these months, he had been dreaming of the simplest things: drinking clean water, eating delicious food to his fill in warmth and silence, taking a hot bath, and lying down to sleep on clean sheets in a soft bed, not thinking about airplanes, explosions, and death.

Isn’t this happiness? Yes, happiness lies in the simplest and most familiar things for us. We don’t appreciate their value until we lose everything. In fact, the simplest things bring the greatest happiness.

When he finally fell asleep, he had a dream. In the shade of the beautiful tree Sidrat al-Muntaha, there were his parents, with Akhmed and Markha beside them, all dressed in beautiful green silk garments and turbans, sitting among beautiful lotus flowers. Fragrant musk emanated from them, and their faces were shining with beautiful white light. There was no sun, no cold, no fear, and no sadness. Adam felt complete peace and tranquility.

Markha held a crystal pitcher in her hands, shimmering with various colors. Then she approached the nearby spring, filled the pitcher with water, and handed it to Adam’s parents. After drinking water from the heavenly source, Adam’s father said to him, “Everything has its time, son! Your golden leaf has not yet fallen from the tree. Take care of your children, we will always be with you, in your heart”.

After the war ended, Adam returned to his homeland, his beloved and native Grozny. He couldn’t even imagine his life outside the city, Grozny was sealed in his heart for life. Almost twenty years had passed, the city had become even more beautiful and magnificent, there was no single trace of war left.

Makka and Magomed grew up, went to university, Adam started a large family, every day thanking the Almighty for the Republic’s peace and prosperity. His heart preserves everything that happened and cherishes everything he has. Happiness is so fragile!

Every person has an inner magical power that can make them survive pain, overcome fear, and continue to fight even with themselves.

---

Every person has an internal magical power that can make them survive pain, overcome fear, and continue to fight even with themselves.

⠀

⠀

Maryam Nashkhoeva

The Scent of Happiness

Mommy, don’t cry. I have two weeks left to live — two whole weeks, fourteen days, three hundred and thirty-six hours, twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes. That’s so much time — time for sunshine, for warm and rainy days, for long, sleepless nights. It feels like an eternity for someone who knows the day their life will end.

You will read this letter when I am no longer by your side. But I will always remain in your heart, burning with the warm flame of your love. Always.

We’ve only just begun, and yet, you’re already crying. Is that really necessary? Smile, like we used to do on warm evenings, sitting together on the swings in our cozy yard. Take a cup of tea — yes, the one with the hearts on it. Pour our fancied blend with mint and lemon balm, take one sip, just like we always did. Then sit in your favourite rocking chair by the fireplace in the living room. You see, you’re already smiling. That means everything will be okay. A smile, after all, is a little glimmer of hope from a heart that’s desperate, but still strong.

I haven’t told you this yet, but the doctor said there’s no going back. My ship is about to set sail on its last voyage.

Mommy, don’t think I’m afraid. I’m not. I’m brave, after all. I’m not afraid of death itself. I’m afraid of leaving you, of breaking your heart. Parents aren’t meant to bury their children — it goes against the laws of nature.

But you know, Mommy, it’s almost easier for me now, after hearing the doctor’s words. You may wonder why. Well, because after these gruelling six months, I’m so exhausted — especially my soul. My body’s grown used to the constant presence of needles and tubes. At thirty, I feel like I’m eighty. Everything inside me feels rusted, worn out. Chemotherapy hasn’t just ravaged my body; it’s burned away my emotions too. It’s as if I’ve already lived my entire life before this moment. Everything feels distant, like an old movie reel — memories, smells, faces, emotions — all in the past. I’ve had my fill of it all.

The sun has become dim and cold, the days are short, the nights endless, and people indifferent. I’m left alone with my illness now — my closest companion, since my “real” friends turned away when I needed them most. My boyfriend left me when he found out about my diagnosis. I can’t offer him beauty anymore, or comfort by my side, or money. I’m bald now, no longer the person who caught his eye. I’m ashamed to go out with him, ashamed of how I look. I scare him, and I scare everyone around him. He has nothing left to brag about.

He once loved me — or at least I thought he did — but it was all an illusion, a false faсade hiding emptiness inside. I was just a big wallet to him, a useful thing, and he was a consumer. My shelf life has expired, and now I’m disposable. I’ve always attracted men like him — Alphonse — but I never found real happiness.

Maybe I was too strong, and that’s why I attracted people weaker than myself. But I have no regrets. In my brief, bright life, I’ve experienced it all: the good, thanks to you, and the bad, thanks to me. You always said there are no perfect people, and I am far from perfect. But you were always my ideal — my magical, guiding star. And stars never fade, so neither will we. Our souls will shine like eternal celestial stars.

I just want to confess to you my endless love! To capture it in these lines!

Please don’t cry, Mommy. I asked you not to. Read this to the end, smile once more, and kiss me on the cheek in your mind — just like you did when I was a child. Hug me tightly with your tender hands — oh, how they smell, Mommy! That scent is heavenly, the most beautiful in the world! They smell like my favourite lily of the valley.

Mommy, I want to share with you some little secrets of happiness. I’m sure that deep down, everyone knows them, but sometimes something holds us back from living by them. It’s hard to stop for just a moment, open your heart wide, and let yourself be happy. But don’t worry, it’s nothing serious — just a few words from a bald girl who loves life madly, and at the same time, hates it.

I decided to write you this letter because I wanted to leave something truly real behind, something that comes from the depths of my heart. Perhaps someday, these words will help someone searching for the secrets of true happiness. But don’t take it all too seriously — just read it and remember me.

I used to make things complicated. I wanted everything at once and believed happiness lay in material possessions, a high social status, a big country house, an expensive car, influential friends. But, Mom, when you’re lying in a hospital bed, all of that feels so unnecessary. These are just stereotypes imposed on us by society. I hate stereotypes — they destroy the real person, the natural inner core. In truth, the formula for life is simple: you just have to allow yourself to be happy without conditions or expectations. Four words: happiness lies in simplicity.

As banal as it may sound, it’s true. You don’t need to look for happiness in luxury, money, expensive villas, or cars. It’s always nearby. It lives in a simple cotton shirt and worn-out jeans someone dear gave you. It’s in the pot of my favourite orchids and the fresh lilacs… and the lilies of the valley you bring me every morning. Happiness is in your smile, your hugs, the hot tea you’re drinking right now, the rocking chair you’re sitting in, the warmth of your hands… and in your embrace, Mommy.

You know, I’ve always been afraid of change — of places, of homes, of people, of the opinions of others, of criticism. But it wasn’t worth it. Yes, it was a waste of time and nerves! What I should have been afraid of was the gray monotony and, at times, my own desires. The first is deadly; the second, fulfilling.

Do you remember when I wanted to shave my head, and you talked me out of it for a whole month? You even promised to kick me out of the house if I did it. Do you remember? Well, my dream came true… somewhat too late.

Do you remember how, as a child, I was afraid of the dark? And you always held my hand when I was scared. I never considered myself brave or strong, but it turns out, I am strong, Mommy. Every person has an inner strength, a magical power that helps them endure pain, overcome fear, and keep fighting — even against themselves.

If I were weak, I wouldn’t have been able to cope with everything I’ve been through. But I’ve always known what I wanted. And now, I would give anything for a little time to do what I love. There would be no more “what if” in my life, because I’ve come to understand that “what if” doesn’t matter. It may never happen. What is to happen, will happen. I believe in fate; it always takes what it’s up to, no matter how much we resist or try to run from it. And now, it has come the turn of the most precious thing to become one of its belongings — my life.

Mommy, I wake up at dawn now, greeting each morning with open arms. I go to bed late, trying to savour every second of life. Before I sleep, I count the stars, like we used to do when I was little. During the day, I listen to the birds singing outside the window, the quiet rustling of leaves, the thunder rolling in the distance. It’s like a spring orchestra — a beautiful symphony of nature. I breathe in the fresh scent of the wind and catch the wet drops of rain in my palm. Spring is a wonderful time. It ignites the sparks of change and always brings something fresh and joyful.

You know, Mommy, I believe it’s so important for each person to have three flames burning inside them: love, hope, and kindness. With these, the Universe will be saved. Don’t think of me as a bore, I know you never heard me speak like this before. I was always the iron lady, focused on my career, but fate had other plans for me, and now, I’m someone different. As strange as it may sound, it’s thanks to this deadly illness that I’ve learned to see the world in a new light. During the breaks between chemotherapy sessions and unconsciousness, I came to realize something important: a person’s true value lies in their humanity and kindness.

Before, I believed that people’s treatment of us was a reflection of our own behaviour. That we get what we give — nothing more, nothing less. But I now see how selfish and outdated that view is. If someone radiates negativity, they should be met with goodness. And goodness should only ever be met with more goodness. We should treat each other with the highest respect and reverence, recognizing that every person deserves to be treated as the finest creation of the Almighty.

If you love someone, love them with all their flaws and imperfections, just as they are. Don’t try to change them, because if you try to bend them, you might break them — forever. And then what’s left? Why create emotional cripples? We must be real, in this moment, for who we are.

Mommy, every rainy morning and sunny day, I thank the Creator for the gift of another day — for every step I’ve taken with the wires in my body, for every breath I am able to take. I now understand that this is only the beginning of a path toward happiness, for every hardship is followed by relief. I’m more grateful to the Almighty now than I ask for anything. I sealed my last moments of happiness in a beautiful glass jar with lilies of the valley, so they can stay with you. You can take it from my room later; it’s on the windowsill, shimmering with all the colours of the rainbow.

Forgive me for this late and confused confession, but I feel better now. Every time you read these words, please smile, without tears. I beg you.

Mommy, if the Almighty gave me just a little more time, I would give you the most beautiful flowers every single day — myriads of flowers. I would tell you more often how much I love you, hug you, kiss you, and call you a million times a day. I would travel thousands of kilometres just to hold you in my arms. You have done so much for me, and I feel like I’ve given you so little in return.

I’ve come to realize that happiness is life itself. It is not a finite destination but a long and difficult journey, full of ups and downs, tears and laughter. Happiness lives in the hearts of our loved ones — whether they are near or far, as long as you know they are there for you, and that they are well. Happiness smells like you, Mommy.

Enjoy the present moment. These minutes will never repeat themselves. Accept the days of sadness and sorrow with dignity — they, too, are not eternal. Do not be afraid, do not be sad or upset that I am not in your life right now. Everything will pass. Everything will disappear. No one will remain, not even the Universe.

Don’t cry, Mommy. Live and love.

Whether it’s a month or a day — it doesn’t matter, just live for me. I will always be by your side. Even now, I am captured in every word, in every line of this letter. Love me, even if I’m not there. And please, don’t cry anymore.

Do you hear me? No need. Tears are small fragments of your soul; they hurt you deeply. You must take care of yourself — for our future meeting in another, more just, and brighter world — the Eternal world.

I love you infinitely.

Your little girl Eva.

---

It is unknown how many more people he saved, risking his own life. I suppose quite a few. After all, virtue always lives in a person, accompanies them everywhere, protects them throughout their life, and manifests itself towards everyone, regardless of nationality or religion.

⠀

⠀

Maryam Nashkhoeva

Deafening Silence

I often lend my ear to silence. It can harken a lot, remember, tell… about the past terrible days and happy moments of our lives… I have special memories connected with silence.

On the tenth of February, there was no sign of a new disaster, except for the one that we had already received. The year 2000 came, and my beloved city was once again destroyed and defeated. Unfortunately, this time we didn’t leave anywhere and stayed in Grozny with my mom. I naively believed, as in previous years, that everything would end quickly, without further escalation. But in wartime, everything is different. Everything is against people.

It was a clear frosty morning when I went out into the yard. The sun was shining, and there was a little snow on the ground. I stopped on the porch to greedily breathe in the fresh air. It was so quiet outside, and I felt calm as I had never felt before.

That day I was a fifteen-year-old boy, fearless and full of dreams for a bright future. On the television and radio, they announced once again that the war was over, and we were liberated from the bandits. We could live in peace and think freely. But it was not true.

As I left the gate of my house at a leisurely pace, I saw a line of military vehicles with soldiers wearing black bands on their heads, singing loudly and using foul language towards the few frightened and tired locals. People ran away to quickly hide in their houses. I wasn’t surprised, as I had witnessed even worse scenes in all the wars. Then I went back into the yard and heard some shots nearby.

My mother ran out into the street with a frightened face and asked: “What’s going on?”, I replied that I had no idea, but it was obviously something bad. We sat down on the porch together and lent an ear to the shots and screams coming from the distance. Soon we heard someone running towards our house. My mother took my hand and we ran inside, locking the door behind us.

We were sitting in silence for a long time, listening to the sounds outside. I felt the growing anxiety and fear inside me. I didn’t know what was happening or what would happen next. My mother and I hugged each other and stayed quiet until all the noise outside had died down. Then we went out and saw that it was all over, but it left its marks on our souls. We understood that our world would never be the same again.

— Erzu, what’s going on? Why are they shooting? Who is shooting? Everything is already over.

— Mom, don’t worry, nothing serious. It’s probably just soldiers having a bit of fun.

— Come inside quickly. It’s not safe here. May the Almighty forbid another shooting or another purge. I barely managed to save you from them last time. Have you forgotten that they wanted to take you to the identity establishment department? They regarded you as a criminal… a fifteen-year-old!

— Mom, why saying such things? Nobody is going to take me; I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s their job, they would have checked my identity and let me go right away.

— You’re a Chechen! And that’s already bad and it hurts their ears!